


And There's Nobody Around To Break My Fall

by graytheglowinggay



Series: The Android and the Engineer are in Love (DaForge Fics) [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Data, Canonical Character Death, Data/Geordi can be read as platonic if you desire, Episode Related, Gen, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Minor Character Death, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Prose Poem, Purple Prose, but why would you need to, internalized ableism, meltdowns, self-injurious behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graytheglowinggay/pseuds/graytheglowinggay
Summary: Sometimes it's all too much.(Or: "5 Times Data Has a Meltdown Alone and 1 Time He's Not Alone", aka "I wanted to hurt myself by writing meltdowns for Data")Title from the song "Matthew 25:21" by the Mountain Goats. The song doesn't have much to do with the subject of this fic, but I love this line.





	1. Chapter 1

**I**

Two weeks, three days, six hours, twelve minutes, one second, two seconds, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…

He had been aboard for two weeks, three days, six hours, twelve minutes, eleven seconds, all seconds, no seconds, no seconds, no seconds.

He was underneath his desk.

(The Mongols conquered the Jin Dynasty in 1234 CE.)

(Vitamin B12, is only needed by the human body in a quantity of 2.4 micrograms a day. One gram would have enough Vitamin B12 to give a human the needed dose for 1,140 days.)

(A non-Newtonian fluid flows like a liquid, but when sudden pressure is applied, it behaves as a solid would.)

He could not name the precise frequency of the sound that he had heard. He wished that he could.

(Starting in the 19th or 20th century, string instruments were tuned so that the note A was equivalent to 440 Hertz.)

He could not access the exact time that he had fled. He could not access the exact time that he had hidden. He could not access language banks.

(The writing system of Hangul, used in Korean, was invented by one man.)

He was shaking.

(A roux is created by mixing equal parts flour and fat and over heat until the flour is fully incorporated.)

He was moving. He was still.

(The point of connection between the Central Pacific and Union Pacific railroads was 1494 meters above sea level.)

He was not afraid. His body was simulating the release of adrenaline and he was reacting as he was programmed to do.

(The earliest known shark dates back to approximately 420 million years ago.)

He was not at home on this ship. He did not belong on this ship.

(American colonists initially believed tomatoes to be poisonous.)

He was not at home among humans. He was not a human.

(Rabbits have no tear ducts.)

He was not a false human, either.


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

He had not experienced death before. He had not felt what it could do.

_ Tasha. _

She was gone, right before his eyes, and he could do nothing. He was useless.

(You should have died, not her.)

An android does not have feelings. An android does not feel grief.

He wished to break his fingers one by one.

He wished to feel pain.

(You did not deserve her friendship.)

He kept looking around. Maybe she would be there.

Humans sometimes played games.

(You do not deserve to be a Starfleet officer.)

He stood in one place for hours. This place was his, now, and the rest of the world was shut off to him.

The rest of the world grieved. He could not join them.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

He was now, so obviously nothing. He was nothing. They had taken him apart so they could take him apart some more. He was a commodity. He was nothing. He was no one.

He was strong but only mattered because of use.

He had to hide when he was not strong.

He had to hide when he was afraid.

(He bit the inside of his forearm for seven minutes, thirty-nine seconds.)

All he had to do was turn around and press in a spot on his back.

The puppet’s strings would be cut.

(He hit his legs for forty-two minutes, sixteen seconds.)

Perhaps his head could be fixed if they took him away. They could turn off the switch that changed him.

(He scratched at his face for three minutes, six seconds.)

His quarters were not a home. They were a cage.

A lighthearted experiment in creation.

(He hit his legs again for ten minutes, forty-five seconds.)

And he had to go at it again the next day.

He had to sit and watch others decide whether he was parts or whole being.

In that moment, he did not care what would happen.

(He was left with four cuts on his left cheek, two on his right; seven bite marks on his right arm; six bruises each on both legs.)


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

It was loud, loud, loud, so very, very loud. It was more than he could take.

It was supposed to be fun.

(“And so I said, ‘What the hell are you doing in my hotel bed?’”)

They were celebrating. Exactly what, he had long forgotten. It had been deemed unimportant by his frantic brain.

He was in a corner, unmoving, weighing out his options. They were quickly dwindling.

(“A toast: To kicking Romulan ass!”)

Language processing was long gone. They were disjointed collections of syllables.

He was looking and he was not looking. He was watching and not watching. Seeing and not seeing. Eyes disconnected.

He moved his hands. He could see his pain. It was bright around him.

(“Did you see the look on his face when we tricked them into crossing the Neutral Zone?”)

His body felt locked up, and yet he could not stop moving. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

He saw someone step toward him.

He ran.

(“Woah, what happened there?”)

He moved as fast as he could. All he thought was that he needed to run. He needed to get somewhere safe.

He needed to get back to his quarters.

(“He was running like a bat out of hell.”)

He reached the turbolift. Thankfully, no one was around.

He entered. He heard the chirp.

He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He was trapped.

(“Probably remembered a forgotten science experiment or something.”)

He knew that if anyone entered the turbolift, he would fight them, and he would win.

But there was no one to fight but himself.

So he fought himself.

He ran in circles in the space. It was too small and too big all at once.

He wanted to punch the walls, but he knew he would break them if he did. He punched his legs again.

(“You know how he is, always busy with something.”)

He could still hear the din.

Clinking glass, scraping metal utensils against ceramic or glass plates.

Empty conversation.

A room with a confusing temperature. Used air.

Too much space and too little space.

All static, clogging up his neural pathways.

Flooded with static, drowning in static.

Drowning alone in a flood that only he could see.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

He was always making mistakes. He could never get anything right.

He messed up all the conversations that he tried to have.

(His smile, lighting up a room just for him.)

He was not worthy of it anyway.

A strange cocktail of reciprocated-unreciprocated feelings was what an android deserved.

Maybe he wasn’t supposed to feel this way anyway.

(Brief moments of contact.)

He would say the wrong thing, and the chance would be gone.

A chance at contact.

He hit himself. He hit his head repeatedly.

It could not do any damage.

(Breath mingling together as their lips met.)

He wanted, he wanted, he  _ needed _ balance.

Adrift in the ocean with no anchor.

No one ever brought him down to earth.

An android was not supposed to need a safety net.

(Rough hands, rough stubble, soft lips, soft heart.)

Even the small things sent shivers down his spine. He wanted more.

But he could not crack the code of human feelings.

(Gentleness gives way to passion.)

He was damaged on the inside, why did the outside not reflect?

He built up hopes and tore hopes down.

He wanted what he could not have.

(The shape of his body, perfect in the way that humans were.)

He was shaking underneath his desk.

How he wanted to cry, more than anything.

If he said one more thing, it would ruin all the other chances.

Any chance at love would be gone.

And so he hid.

(Whispered passion, complex and simple all at once.)

He wanted to scream but no sound came out anymore.

He did not deserve the privilege of vocalization.

He did not deserve a safety net.


	6. Chapter 6

**1**

His job was always stressful. It could not be helped. That was the nature of Starfleet. He usually did not mind, but, sometimes, it got to him.

Another mission was completed, another day was saved, and Data sat at his station. He could feel the tension building. He knew that it would eventually conclude in a moment of terrifying intensity. He also knew that there was nothing that he could do to stop it.

He heard someone’s voice, distantly, say his name. The unintelligible syllables resembled hearing through water. His name was repeated again, more distantly.

He felt as if he was being pulled into a hole, away from those that were in proximity to him.

His balance shifted. He fell out of his chair.

Muffled voices of alarm. Small beeping noises. He stared blankly ahead.

Someone tried to move him. His whole body shook in resistance.

Footsteps were coming toward him. He did not want others to be near him. It was dangerous, most likely. A person kneeled in front of him, blocking his view of the wall.

He felt a soft touch on his back. He flinched at first but realized that the touch was not a threat. He heard soft vocalizations repeated as the person touched his back, running fingers smoothly up and down the length of his spine. He understood that these actions were meant to be soothing.

A set of frantic footsteps advanced toward him. Another person kneeled next to him. A second voice, lower than the first. Strong arms, pulling him in close. Moving with him as he slowly rocked back and forth. A tight embrace.

He could feel himself returning.

He was guided to his feet, led out of the room, into a second one. He was led to a couch, where he sat down. He was still being held. The words were still confusing, but he felt safe. He heard more footsteps, others entering the room. Words exchanged between them; some understanding was returning to him. He heard someone say his name, he looked up slightly and saw two people looking at him. His brain identified them as “Troi” and “Picard”. He looked to the person that was holding him, and his brain identified him as “Geordi”. This was someone that would keep him safe, he knew. Now, he was in a place where he was protected. More words were exchanged between Picard and Troi and Geordi. Data did not participate. He simply held on.

“Is he fit to return to duty?” he heard Picard ask.

“Probably not for another hour, if I had to guess,” Geordi replied. The low sound of Geordi’s voice rumbling in his chest was soothing to Data, and he hummed too, trying to tune his voice to the same frequency.

“Captain, if you wish, Data can stay in my office until he recovers, so your ready room can be freed up for regular use,” Troi said.

Data did not know how he felt about being moved again. He felt uncertain, unsteady. He found Geordi’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“Geordi, is it the best idea to move Data in this state?” Picard asked.

Data rapidly squeezed Geordi’s hand. He did not want to move again. The hallways would be loud and bright and busy, and even though he knew that Troi’s room would be better for him, the thought of having to avoid all those people almost pushed him over the edge again.

“I think that he’d be better off staying here,” Geordi replied. Data was grateful that Geordi had understood what he meant. Geordi looked down at him, and started running his fingers softly through Data’s hair, using this action to try to help him return to his normal state.

“You guys can leave. I can take it from here,” Geordi said. Data heard Troi and Picard leave the room. He sat up slightly to look at Geordi. “Stress?”

Data nodded.

“Figures. There was a lot resting on your shoulders back there. You certainly did well under the pressure.”

Data relaxed into the steady rhythm of contact and willed himself to keep returning.

“I’ll always be here for you whenever this happens. I don’t want you to have to go through this alone.”

Data knew that this statement was true, and he took comfort in the certainty of Geordi’s protection. His rational mind told him that this was a false constant, but emotionally irrational statements were comforting, and that was all he needed.


End file.
